


The World Will Always Welcome Lovers

by butterflyslinky



Series: His Mighty Shield [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1853356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's going well. Bucky has a new purpose, and you have a wonderful boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Will Always Welcome Lovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vinvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinvy/gifts).



The thing that still amazes you the most is the food.

Before the war, when you were young, there had never been enough. That might have been the reason you grew up so small and sick, though Bucky had just as little and he still managed to be healthy, so maybe not. During the war, in Europe, rations were fairly low, though your position as Captain America meant you got better food than the rest. But it still wasn’t as much as you wanted, even though you could go years without it.

But now, in a more prosperous time, there’s always enough, more than enough, and it’s always an adventure to see what new and strange things you can find that are apparently meant for ingestion.  
Bucky is usually unimpressed with whatever you grab, as long as he gets his coffee. But he’s always willing to try things with you, and now that he’s coming back to himself a little, it’s actually a pretty fun experience. 

“I don’t think that color is found in nature.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to eat anything that takes more than a minute to chew.”

“What does it mean by ‘artificial flavors’?”

“This thing can last as long as we can!”

And indeed, when you actually try to eat half of this stuff, it makes you gag internally, but growing up in the Depression, neither of you can bear the thought of wasting food, so you always choke it down. After all, while the stuff you’re getting now is sugary and fake and probably the type of stuff that would kill normal humans, it’s still food, and it’s still better than what you had before.

You know you don’t have to finish everything now. You can not only afford to buy food, you can afford to waste it for the first time in your lives. Before, you had gotten by on very little, sometimes going days if not weeks on black coffee alone. It’s a thrilling feeling, knowing you don’t have to worry, but it also makes you feel guilty, that you have so much without earning it while others starve in spite of their efforts.

You can tell Bucky feels the same way, and that he’s getting restless, so one afternoon, after being cleared by both Clint and Bucky’s therapist, you and Bucky go down to volunteer at the soup kitchen, in your civilian clothes from being on the run. It’s not that you don’t want people to recognize you, necessarily, but there’s a time and a place, and this isn’t one of you publicity stunts. This is genuine desire to help people in any way you can, because that’s what heroes do.

After all, Captain America represents all of America, not just the pretty parts the ones in charge want people to see. You belong down here with them, serving soup and smiling at them, listening to their quiet thanks and occasionally, their stories.

Their stories are familiar. Their struggles, their dreams, their slumped shoulders and empty eyes, a few glitters of hope shining through the room. After all, their stories are your story. You’re no different from any of them.

You never have been.

Bucky remembers, too. He doesn’t say anything, but you know by the light in his eyes that looks like that old familiar glint he had back in the 30’s, when he would spend days on end sitting on the floor of your room, ranting about the injustices in the world, how no one cared that children were starving, how no one would help a poor little boy whose every breath was a struggle. You remember agreeing with him as you breathed steam and tried to keep your heart from bursting. You remember the set of his jaw, the clench of his fists then, and you see it now, through the gloves he wears and the haunted face of the Winter Soldier.  
You keep an eye on him, wondering at every moment if something will trigger him and make him snap, but he’s good. He simply listens to the people as he passes out their bread, his face more sad than angry. No one bothers him. They don’t recognize either of you, your face hidden behind your baseball cap and thick-framed glasses, his hidden behind a black hoodie he borrowed from your closet. The only people who look twice are the type of people who see celebrities or ghosts in every face they pass. In fact, Steve is more often recognized as some actor he’s never heard of than as Captain America, which is a relief. If it got out that Captain America was here…

Maybe it would help. Maybe if he started a campaign, people would actually listen.

But it’s not likely.

Bucky is thinking differently when you go home that night. “Why don’t we do more?” he asks as you prepare for bed. “Why do we live in luxury with food and money to waste while our people are suffering?”

You look at him, smiling softly. Your people. Both of yours. No matter what HYDRA had done, they were still his people. “You’re right,” you say. “And I don’t know. But remember, Tony pays for most of this, and I can’t really tell him how to spend his money.”

“Why not?” Bucky asks. “Tony needs someone to open his eyes. He’s never been poor. He’s never struggled to put food on the table. He’s never had to lie and steal and work late into the night to make sure…” He stops, but you know.

“You never had to do any of it,” you remind him quietly. “No one made you take care of me.”

“I wanted to take care of you,” Bucky said quietly. “I wanted to make sure you lived.”

You pull him into your arms. “I know,” you say. “Thank you.”

When you bring up the issue to Tony, you get a lecture on capitalism and economic infrastructures and something called “supply side economics” before he agrees to help with a campaign.

*

You start going every week, just you and Bucky, to help out. People begin to know you as “that nice young couple who come on Thursdays,” and they open up even more. And while you know Bucky is still upset about the way things are, he begins to relax more, sitting with the people for longer hours, talking with them, hearing their stories and sharing a modified version of his own.

It carried over to the rest of his life. He’s less tense now, easier to talk to. He jokes more, he flirts with everyone like he used to, and when he curls beside you at night, he feels less like a frightened child and more like a confident lover.

You do occasionally worry that it might be too much, though, so one week, you volunteer to pick Bucky up from his therapy appointment, just so you can make sure it’s all right.

He’s waiting for you in the lobby, but you only greet him with a brief peck before saying, “Hey, listen. I want to have a quick talk with Dr. Blackman, so can you wait for me a minute?”

Bucky looks surprised, then afraid. “Did I do something bad?” he asks.

“No,” you assure him. “I just have a question for her, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky says, leaning against the wall, curling in on himself as though to avoid punishment, and it breaks your heart that he could ever look at you that way.

You smile and walk back to the office, where Dr. Blackman, who you’ve met once or twice before, is packing up her case to leave. She gives you a perfunctory smile when you knock on the doorframe. “Good afternoon, Captain Rogers,” she says. “Can I help you?”

“I just had a question about Bucky,” you say.

She frowns. “Captain, you know that I am not allowed to tell you what goes on in here…”

“I know!” you say quickly. “I just…well, you know we’ve been volunteering and I was…I wanted to make sure that it’s not doing anything to upset him or…”

She relaxes. “No,” she said. “In fact, I think it’s good for him to be doing something productive with all his energy.”

You nod. “Thank you, Dr. Blackman.” You turn and leave, relieved that you’re doing something right.

*

Now that you’re sure Bucky can handle being out in public, you’re ready to ask him on an official date. Or rather, you’re ready to ask Clint’s permission to take Bucky on an official date, but it’s mostly a formality, because the terms set by the VA office say that Bucky’s location must be known at all times.

Clint only grins when you come in, twisting your hands like a teenager meeting a girl’s father and asking permission to go out. “About fucking time,” is all Clint says before his face turns serious. “Have him in by midnight and if I smell any alcohol on either of you, you’re both grounded.”

Bucky only shakes his head when you relay that conversation to him. “Do I have to dress nicely?” he asks.

“If…if you want to go anywhere fancy…”

He sighs dramatically. “Guess I’ve have to dig up a suit.”

Fortunately, Clint tells Natasha everything, so the very next morning she whisks Bucky away to go shopping. They come back several hours later, Natasha looking amused and Bucky looking haunted. “I’ve been through some pretty bad places,” he mutters. “But I’ve never seen anything so awful as a shopping mall.”

You’re momentarily alarmed, but then he drops the tense mask and laughs. “I’m just kidding,” he assures you. “But seriously, don’t go to Sears during a clearance sale.”

Natasha laughs. “Toughest soldier on earth, my ass. Can’t even handle three dozen middle aged housewives trying to buy discount coffee makers!”

Bucky laughs as well, and so do you, and you feel that much more confident.

*

You end up going to a small restaurant in Brooklyn, not far from where you grew up. Back then, the building had been a dive bar, but it’s been cleaned up into a rather fancy place. You smile as you and Bucky walk in in your nice suits, holding hands.

The food is good, the wine as well, and you and Bucky talk easily, about New York, about the old days, about the shelter and your steadily growing campaign to help the less fortunate of the city. It’s nice. Normal, like you’re any two people out having a nice evening.

And for once, it goes right. No gunshots, no explosions, no HYDRA agents breaking in and taking hostages. Of course, even if anything had happened, you had ordered Tony not to call you in unless it was an absolute emergency, and Clint had agreed. So if anything goes wrong during that time, you don’t know about it and are free to enjoy your time with Bucky.

After dinner, you and Bucky walk home, still holding hands, ignoring any odd looks you receive. He’s yours, dammit, and you’re not going to let anyone judge you.

Back at the tower, you and Bucky retreat to your living room, where you’ve already set up your old record player. You smile at Bucky as you go to turn it on. He looks surprised, then faintly pleased and slightly sad as it starts playing an old song—the last song the two of you danced to in New York all those years ago.

_You must remember this,_  
A kiss is still a kiss,  
A sigh is just a sigh,  
The fundamental things apply  
As time goes by… 

You hold out your hands. “Dance with me?” you ask timidly, like you’re still the little boy practicing with his best friend before another disaster of a double date.

His smile grows, tears in his eyes as he takes your hands. You dance in your living room, his head on your shoulder, moving slowly to the music. You’re still not a great dancer, of course, but it’s easy with him.  
It’s always been easy with him.

_It's still the same old story_  
A fight for love and glory  
A case of do or die  
The world will always welcome lovers  
As time goes by. 

The song ends and he sighs, still leaning on you. “Love you,” he murmurs sleepily.

“Love you, too, Buck,” you say.


End file.
